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About Utrecht

I’m stalkin’ the streets, right? Eyes peeled, gut screamin’. Then, bam – there’s this chick, leanin’ on a lamppost like she owns it. Fishnets, lipstick redder than a trauma ward’s floor. I’m thinkin’, “This is it, the target’s acquired.” Like CIA vibes, but with more glitter. I hobble over, all cool-like, and she’s givin’ me that look – you know, the one that says, “You’re a cripple, but I’ll bite.” I’m already annoyed – hate that pity crap.

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Lunchtime rolls around, and I decide to hit up that little café on the corner of de Wetering. Best sandwiches ever! I grab a “broodje kroket” and sit outside. The sun’s shining, and for a moment, life is good. But then, outta nowhere, this pigeon swoops down and tries to steal my lunch! I’m flailing my arms like a madman. People are staring. I’m like, “Get outta here, you feathered thief!”

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